


by fire

by aelescribe



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, The Burning Maze Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-04-30 06:13:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14490585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelescribe/pseuds/aelescribe
Summary: Nico isn't coming back empty-handed.[viii. “But you just… can’t heal everything, Will.”“I can try!”Nico scowled, but he looked more sad than anything. “This isn’t a bruise, Will. It’s… it’s permanent. It’s part of me. All… this.” He buried his head in his hands.]





	1. beneath

Nico thinks this is how he’ll die. Shaking, unable to tie the knot on his knapsack, convulsing until his bones grind each other into dust. Gods he can’t stop moving, if he stops everything will stop and reality will come crashing down, and he won’t be able to use the momentum of grief he has right now.

But the stupid knot won’t tie. Ambrosia is stuffed in the bag, haphazardly. Some bandages. Some bottles of nectar. A book, as if he’ll have time to read. A camp Jupiter shirt that he prays no one will question the origin of.

The harsh purple fabric reminds him of a lilac sky. Sitting on the mast of the Argo II, a gentle breeze carrying away his worries. The first friend he made for himself, the first person he ever truly trusted on his own, perhaps the first person to trust him, too, the first person to know Nico and be happy, to see that he was enough, the first person that Nico ever l–

L.

Lo.

If he could just get his hands to stop _shaking_ –

“Where’s Will?”

The question startles him. Angers him, if he’s honest. Even though Reyna’s eyes are red, her shoulders stand tall and defiant while Nico’s slump. “I don’t know. I-I… I don’t know.”

“Is he coming with you?”

Of course not. Nico doesn’t think he would want to. He’s never understood. He won’t start now. And there’s something stuck in his throat that he’s afraid Will could dislodge if he so much as touches him. Something that’s been burning since before Jason left and something that he’s been trying to vomit up until Jason–

Since Jason–

 _Jason_.

“No. He’s not.” Nico finally ties the knot and slings the bag over his shoulder. He’s done this before. He’ll do it again. Again. As many times as it takes. He won’t spend the rest of his life–or death–in lament. This is too soon. This death is _wrong_. Everything’s wrong. Since Jason left, everything’s been wrong. Besides, Nico and his father are proprietors of justice. It’s only fitting. And Reyna still stands as something just and right and impenetrable, eyes gleaming like her loyal dogs. “Are you?”

“You’re a fool to even ask.” Her braid is slung over her shoulder with her funeral shroud and backpack. She extends her hand. “We aren’t coming back without him.”

Nico nods. “We aren’t.”

Their fingers lace together and Nico welcomes the darkness, the search, the road that lies ahead, waiting to meet those clear blue eyes somewhere on the underworld horizon.


	2. traces

Jason’s sketchbooks are piled high in the corner of his room, a thick layer of dust coating them. Nico takes a deep breath and blows it away, running his hand reverently over the cover.

Nico sits down and opens the first one, a dark hardcover. His name is written on the inside cover. He traces each letter, each curve, with overwhelming sadness. The big empty cabin makes him feel so small. Zeus’ great eyes seem to droop, as if some emotion, some  _ love _ for his son may lie beneath miles of concrete and decades of neglect.

There’s no specific order to the cabin shrines. He seemed to pen them for whichever struck him with inspiration. Some godly force above, perhaps, granting him with creative prowess. 

He switches between pen and pencil. Nico hesitates over the graphite lines already blurring page after page. Notices the random notes in the margins where Jason chased a thought until it spawned a great idea. Some are just anecdotes of his daily life. 

Nico’s heart stops when he lands on the page for Hades’ temple.

The design is gorgeous. Sleek. Elegant. Ebony marble and carefully carved skulls. Gemstones spilling from their mouths and eyes. A little gaudy, perhaps, but he supposes that Jason drew inspiration from the decor of his own cabin.  _ Ask Nico color preferences!! _ is scribbled beside a few watercolor tests. Nico runs his fingers over a soft evergreen swatch and breathes.  _ Hazel help deisgn?? Art buds??? _ is scribbled at the bottom of the page.  _ Not too emo. _ Right below,  _ so emo it just might work _ . 

Nico laughs at the scatterbrained nature of his notes. Then he notices a note at the corner of the page. Almost erased, almost invisible, blurred by lead. Written, erased, then written again.

_ Tell Nico _

Each stroke of pencil on the page, each splotch of color turns into more and more tears in Nico’s eyes. He closes the sketchbook with a heavy thud so he doesn’t smear the pages with his tears. “Tell me what, Jason?” he asks the empty cabin. He hugs the sketchbook tighter and screws his sadness into the bottom of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a series of non linear oneshots picking up after Jason's death and ignoring TOA canon. Kinda plot driven, kind of not. IDK this is just how I'm coping after the nonsense of "The Burning Maze" lmao


	3. tryst

Percy’s hands are shaking when he grabs the collar of Jason’s shirt, loose and ill-fitting on Nico’s small frame. “Where are you going?”

Nico shrugs one shoulder, slant and sad. “Where do you think?”

He can see sketchbooks peeking out of his backpack. “Are you going alone?”

“No.” He meets Percy’s eyes in the dark, intense, full of sorrow. Percy had gotten used to not seeing that look on Nico anymore. A sarcastic quirk of his eyebrows, the slightest tug of his lips, had become a happy default. No more. The sadness is back, the anger has returned full force. Percy understands. He feels it, too. “Are you coming?”

There’s maybe some hope in Nico’s voice. Or maybe Percy is hoping Nico wants him to come with. “I can’t.” A sigh. “My mom. Annabeth.” A long silence passes between them. He lets go of Jason’s shirt--Nico’s, now, and rests his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I thought that I was done with this. I thought it was over.”

“So did he.”

Jason and Percy left to find happiness in the mundane, to escape the hell of living as a demigod. The gods dragged him back again, kicking and screaming. Jason, too. And they let him wash up on a beach, dead for all his troubles. Dead for nothing. A pair of _shoes._

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Nico whispers. He takes Percy’s hand in his and squeezes tight. It’s nights like these where Percy wonders why it took him so long to be friends with Nico again. No bullshit apologies, no promises he’ll make it up to him. He understands there’s nothing they can do. But he’ll try anyway.

“Sometimes, I think Luke might have been right.”

It’s a whisper. Something he’s kept from Annabeth for a long time, something that he _knows_ must be stewing in her brain, but she can’t release it. It would hurt them both too much. But Nico can take it, he thinks. Nico can understand. Maybe it’s selfish.

But hey, Nico is wearing Jason’s shirt. They’re both allowed a little selfishness.

“Maybe.” He adjusts his backpack, hand settling on his stygian iron blade. “I’m going to Rome first. I have to see… I have to see it.” _The body._  Percy’s stomach churns. “Funeral rites. Then… then I’m leaving.”

Percy nods shakily. He can’t bear the thought of seeing Jason’s body. Cold, washed up from the depths of his father’s kingdom. Waterlogged. Glasses cracked, if he still has them. Heavy. Nico’s shoulders are trembling and Percy hates it, but he _has_ to ask, “Did you feel it?” The breeze rustles the trees and he can imagine Tempest trying to chase away their grief. “When he…”

“Of course I did,” Nico says. His voice is so soft. Broken. He hasn’t heard that tone in a long time. And Percy hates to hear it again.

“Okay.” He breathes into his hands. Tries to remain stable when the foundation is cracked, as been cracked since the beginning, and only now is it starting to crumble. Its stayed together broken this long, but no more. “Give ‘em hell from me, di Angelo.” Apollo. Whoever killed Jason. The gods. _Anyone_ and _everyone._

For a second, he thinks, they both can see the plains of Tartarus stretching across the night’s horizon. “Nothing less,” Nico assures him. There’s a crack and he fades into shadow, leaving Percy alone in the woods, moon high overhead. Wind whistles in his ears.

He takes his misery to the empty lake until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now percy joins the fray of Sadness. we’ll get around to most/all of the characters eventually, tho the story will mainly focus around nico’s POV.


	4. splinter

His hair flies behind him and he laughs, riding adrenaline like a gust of wind conjured by Jason. The flagpole is trapped in his fingers and Clarisse is yelling behind him. Slipping into earth, into shadow, is too easy. So he’s running. And he’s winning. And that just makes her more angry.

It’s good-natured, of course, and Nico has taken to brawling with her and her siblings more often. Fighting is an outlet Nico desperately needs, especially in a controlled environment. Keeps his reflexes sharp and his mind stable when things get… get stale, as they have been so often lately.

He didn’t even want to play capture the flag tonight, but Will convinced him otherwise. _It’ll be good for you to get some sun_ , he said. _We can cuddle and roast marshmallows after,_ he pleaded. Nico has a hard time saying no. Will’s intentions are good, he reminds himself above all else.

The Apollo cabin is cheering as he races across the field. Casts a wall of earth up to deflect a volley of arrows from the Ares cabin. Ducks into shadow for a moment to avoid a group of Hermes kids closing in.

Will throws his hands over his head, whooping like they’ve already won. Nico hasn’t even made it back to base yet. Earth scatters beneath his gait. He grins. Head tossed back, golden hair, sky eyes cheering him on. Nico needs to talk to him, he thinks. He needs to see him again. Invite him to camp during break. They can play capture the flag or sit in his cabin together or by the lake or just talk about everything and nothing at all. Maybe not what Nico should think about, looking at his boyfriend, but he’s been noticing it a lot more lately. Like Will’s been noticing other people ( _boys_ ) and things about Nico that bother him lately.

It’s only because he misses him, Nico rationalizes. It’s only because he’s left. He’ll see him, scratch that itch, and everything will go back to normal. So Nico sprints for the finish line with this in mind.

The roaring shouts of the campers drown out all else, and soon, his ears are numb. The air drops, losing any warmth or comfort it once held. The ground is cold. Grass starts to wane and die. Nico doesn’t understand what’s happening. It’s as though everyone’s telling him the wind’s knocked out of him, but that breathlessness hasn’t hit him yet.

But now. _Now_ it hits him.

His foot slips and he hits the ground. The flag falls from his hand. A chill he knows too well takes over him but it’s more intense than _anything_ he’s ever felt. More an intense than waking up from his feverish state when shadow travelling across Europe and feeling _his soul_ ebbing away in some decrepit Roman palace, golden spear through his chest. Nico felt it then and it scared him enough. And now--again-- _but so much worse_.

This shouldn’t be happening. He just got a postcard from Pasadena the other day inscribed with _Miss you, Jay_ at the bottom. But Nico can’t breathe. He tries, tries to say something to offset the worries of the suddenly still campers--someone runs to his side to grab the flag and just tosses it aside, kneeling to offer comfort. Will reaches for his hand.

Nico tries to speak but it only comes out as some horrific, strangled cry.

Will’s hands and eyes wander all over him, poking and prodding for injury. Nico’s breaths are chokes and gasps, building up to sobs, tears that he knows he can’t stop from falling. _This can’t be happening_. The Giant War is over. This is all supposed to be _over_. Maybe not for Nico, but it has to be for him. That’s why he left. He was trying to escape.

So why is Jason _dying_?

“Nico! Nico, please, answer me--” His lolling eyes meet Will’s and his boyfriend sighs with relief. Nico’s hands clutch his chest so tight, so tight, trying to wring out his heart. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

 _Everywhere_ , he thinks. And then a better question: _Where_ doesn’t _it hurt?_

Nico coughs, harsh, hacking up spit and tears all over the grass. The ground begins to sink beneath his writhing form. Will grabs his shoulders, panicked, and Nico manages, “Dying--”

There are more campers crowding now, trying to glimpse his invisible affliction. Nico thinks he might die along with Jason. This is so much, too much, if this is even a fraction of what Jason’s feeling he’s sick to his stomach. Why is it hurting Jason this much and why won’t it end? It just keeps _going_.

“No!” Will shouts. He motions some of his siblings over and they reach for Nico but he shies away, finding comfort in the earth crumbling beneath him, even while they try and pull him out of his own grave. “You’re going to be fine, Nico.” Will’s hand on his face, brushing back his bangs, voice remaining steady for both of them. “We’ll get you to the infirmary and--”

“ _Jason_.” A shuddering sob and Will’s hand releases his face, suddenly cold. “Dying. He’s dying.” Nico’s back arches off the ground again, another wave of pain rolling over him, as sharp and sudden as the first.

“Jason?” Will repeats.

Nico’s body falls slack into the hole he’s created in the ground. As soon as the coldness crept into his chest, it left, taking his heart with him. It’s already over. It’s done. He’s gone. He parts his burned lips and utters, “Dead.”

He pushes himself off the ground, out of the grave and off of dead grass and stands, swaying. Will puts his hand on Nico’s shoulders, searching his dead eyes. He tenses under the hold. He’s coherent now, cold clarity settling in now that the pain’s left. Will’s looking for something to say, everyone’s watching them, but Nico doesn’t have anything to say that they’ll want to hear. Not that he cares.

Will’s face glows soft with concern. It’s dim, but still too bright for Nico’s sore eyes. And suddenly, he remembers Apollo.

 _Apollo_.

The maze. Recruiting demigods along the way. He knows he at least talked to Percy. It’s not out of the way to believe that he asked Jason to help. And Jason can’t refuse--out of obligation or habit. No matter the circumstance, the sick truth settles in: Apollo has something to do with this.

“He’s dead, Will,” Nico says.

“Nico--”

He starts to disappear into shadow and Will instinctively grabs his hand. Nico doesn’t fend him off this time and they end up back in Nico’s cabin. His sword is resting against his bedpost and he slings it on his belt. Doesn’t bother packing anything else, a sword is all he needs. “I’m going to get him,” Nico explains.

Will is trying to grab his attention, his hand, but Nico can’t handle that right now. Can’t meet his eyes. Can’t stop moving or he’ll end up like Jason. “Nico, I don’t…”

He leaves his cabin as quickly as he entered, grabbing Will’s hand after he slams the door shut behind them both. “And you’re coming with me.”

Will wrenches his hand free this time, but keeps pace with Nico as he storms to the Big House. The least he can do is let Chiron know he may not be coming back. “There has to be a mistake. Apollo was there. He would have done something.”

“So your dad _was_ there?” Nico confirms. He didn’t know for sure and now that he does he seethes.

“Yes. He…” Will runs a hand through his hair. “He needed Jason for some quest thing.”

“And?” Nico prompts.

Will’s eyes stay glued to his sneakers. “I told him where Jason’s boarding school was so he could find him. I got the address off one of your postcards.”

Nico’s jaw hangs open. His face is pale. His sword hangs heavy, sinking him into the dirt. “You weren’t--those--you went through my stuff?”

“I didn’t read them, I just wanted to help--” Will sighs and tries to brush past the question, guilt in his furrowed brow. “We need to get you to the infirmary just to make sure there's no physical damage.”

Nico shakes his head, taking a step back from Will. Still, he offers his hand, pleading Will to take it. "We're leaving. Your dad, your problem. I'm not letting his foolishness take Jason away from me."

Will takes his hand only to pull him in and grab Nico by the shoulders. “Nico, you aren’t thinking straight. You’re hurt. You’re fine, Jason’s fine--”

“You have no idea what I just felt,” Nico whispers. Either Will doesn’t hear him or he ignores it. Again.

“Just come back with me to the infirmary. Let’s talk. Figure this out.” His hands are a vice Nico can’t escape from. The sun at his fingertips, burning his skin, sapping his strength.

“Let go of me, Will.”

“Nico, I’m trying to help--”

The ground cracks beneath their feet. Shadows spiderweb underneath. And Nico is panicked, now, when he says, “Step away, Will.”

And for once in his life, Will lets go. He looks scared. Nico regrets it.

“You don’t want to come. Even if he’s dead.” Nico’s words are accusatory and unfair. He can’t bring himself to care.

Will meets his eyes sadly. “I want to help you, Nico.”

He always wants to help. Never knows how. Nico doesn’t know, either. “Let Chiron know I’m leaving.” He turns to go. “Maybe you should stop trying to help.”

“Maybe you should stop running away.”

There it is. An angry smile lights Nico’s face and he glances over his shoulder. “If you _really_ wanted to help, William, you’d come with. My offer still stands.” Will just stares at him. “I’ll stay to get myself and my things in order. Then I’m going.”

Nico wanders through shadow into Jason’s cabin and holds back his tears alone. Will doesn’t show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG shoutout to artem-ace.tumblr.com, who came up with a lot of the dialogue between Will and Nico in the jasico discord. JSYK, Will and Nico as a couple won't be a focus. I'm addressing it since they're together in TOA canon, but other than that, it's not going to be prevalent.


	5. misnomer

Nico goes to Elysium first. 

Jason has to be there. There’s no way he could end up anywhere else with such a heroic death. Such a heroic life. Such a heroic…  _ everything _ . He lived his life for others. Partly because he cared and love so much and so deep; partly because he was never given the chance to live for himself. 

Golden grass yields to his heavy boots. He passes through crowds of pleasant bodies, calling to him, smiling at him, inviting his company. But Nico has a goal in mind. He came here once to look for his sister, but he was too late. Bianca chose rebirth.

He has a feeling Jason will, too. Nico wants him to. He deserves some semblance of a normal life. But before Jason leaves, Nico  _ has to  _ see him. Just once. One last time.

Then suddenly, at the edge of a warm river, he’s there. Toned arms, back to Nico, defined by his gorgeous blond hair. He seems taller, leaner. Boarding school must have changed him. But his sentiments remain with the camp shirt he’s adorned, bright orange streaking bright as anything else in this paradise. He wonders why, for this last time, Jason decided to forego his uniform in favor of their flag. Maybe he knew. Maybe he still wanted to come back, deep down. Or maybe he just knew he couldn’t escape. 

Nico likes to pretend it means Jason was thinking of him when he put that shirt back on. He made Nico promise to stay, after all. And Nico stayed. And waited. And waited. And now it’s too late and Jason is gone. There and here. 

All the words Nico swore he’d say dry up in his throat as he creeps forward. Gods, he’s so close, he’s right there. Jason doesn’t move, hardly breathes. He watches the river. The son of Hades reaches a trembling hand out. Wants his hand, his lips, his heart. 

He bunches the loose orange fabric in his fist and breathes. Jason stiffens, but doesn’t turn around. “I thought I lost you,” Nico whispers. He can’t describe the elation he feels to have caught him this last time before his rebirth. He laughs weakly and his head falls forward to rest below Jason’s shoulder blades. 

A hand grips his wrist. Fingers cold, harsh. He turns around slowly and Nico is  _ waiting _ for Jason to raise his arms for a hug, chuckle “ _ Miss me? _ ” into Nico’s ear and make everything all right, and dry his tears with a tender forehead kiss.

Blue eyes meet his and Nico’s smile fades. The hand securing his wrist is harsh, untrusting. He can’t bring himself to break away.  “J… you…” Nico sucks in a breath. “I. I thought you were someone else.”

“Don’t look so surprised.” Luke shrugs. “I didn’t think I’d make it here either.

They sit side by side on the bank of the river. Nico draws his knees to his chest. He’s a fool to think he’d find Jason. An even bigger fool to run into Luke. His life is conspiring against him, twisting every last bit of hope and happiness he had into spots of dark misery. 

Luke squints at him. Nico bundles further into his jacket, wishing for his older roomier one. This one is fitted and it looks good (of course it does, Will picked it out for him, he has good taste), but isn’t nearly as homey. “You get taller?”

“Maybe.” Blows the bangs back from the bridge of his nose. “Did you?”

Luke rolls his eyes. “There it is. Classic di Angelo.”

“You don’t know  _ classic di Angelo _ . You hardly know me.”

“It goes both ways. You sure were happy to see me before you saw me.” Nico’s hands clench inside his pockets. Luke puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to placate. “Looking for someone?” He nods. “Your sister?” He shakes his head.

“A friend,” Nico chokes out. Comrade. Ally. Partner. So many words he could use, yet they’re all ill-fitting in Jason’s glorious shadow. 

“Maybe I can help you find him. We don’t get a lot of new people here often, you know. When did he die?” Luke’s brow furrows with concern and Nico isn’t used to this. Isn’t used to caring from a stranger and it’s too much and too close to Jason and he’s going to start crying if Luke doesn’t let go of him.

“Four days and seven hours ago.” Nico rubs a hand against his sharp collarbone. He remembers the pain searing him in two, remembers it better than the beat of his own heart. “Time doesn’t work the same in Elysium. How would you even know--?”

“His name, then. I’m guessing he looks like me?” Luke’s wit is quick, sharp, but there’s a softness to every blow he lands. He reels in just enough to leave Nico with a misshapen smile. Perhaps this is what Percy liked about him so much, he thinks. Why he and Annabeth were so broken over his death. Thalia, too.

Shit. She has to know. 

Nico runs a hand through his hair and groans. “Jason Grace.”

“Grace,” Luke repeats quietly. His eyes are distant, stormy with memories. Nico’s hesitant tapping feet are all he needs for confirmation. “But, wait. I thought her brother died… a long time ago.”

“Well, he’s d--now, he’s--” Nico can’t bring himself to say it without choking. A long silence befalls them so they can both regain their composure. “No. He didn’t, back then.”

Luke kicks a rock into the stream. Thalia sacrificed herself to save Luke and Annabeth, he remembers, and shocked them all when she showed up alive and well. Jason was abandoned for the wolves and became a hero of Greece and Rome in his own right. 

Only to die for a meaningless sacrifice. A worthless prophecy. Elysium makes Nico so cold. 

It’s as though the son of Hermes can read his thoughts and he says, “Guess it runs in the family.” A sad smile hangs on his face. 

Nico tries to laugh but it comes out as a sigh. “Yeah. Guess it does.” The running river fills the passing quiet. Nico takes this time to breathe for the first time in days. “You know, Percy thinks you may have been right.”

“Oh? I thought Jackson’s principles were better than that.” But as he says it, Luke’s smile doesn’t fade. Some fondness lies there that Nico will never know. His heart aches, but only for a moment. Just a moment.

Nico stands and readies himself to leave. “I’ll probably be back,” he says, sweeping his gaze across the peaceful plains. “There’s something bigger at play here… I just don’t know what.”

“There always is, with the gods involved.” Luke sighs tiredly and rests back into his hands. He meets Nico’s eyes with a small smile. “I’ll let you know if he shows up.”  Nico leaves to relay his lack of new information with Reyna on the surface. They'll tear Asphodel apart by each blade of gray grass if that's what it takes. Luke's words rattle around his head, keeping him warm on his way up to the chilled realm of the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm always a sucker for luke


	6. barrens

“I’m going to a boarding school. In Pasadena.”

Nico’s world shatters. The day he’s feared has finally come to pass. Jason is leaving him for good. He should scream or cry. He should have someone’s shoulder for that, but there’s only empty, stifling air in his cabin. He can only get out one syllable out of his constricted throat, “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah. It’s a ways from Camp Jupiter, but I think that’s for the best.” He sounds relieved to get this burden off his chest. Nico wonders how long he’s been working with the offices in New Rome getting all his paperwork arranged, how many nights he’s lost sleep over working shrines at the same time. He’s upset this is the first he’s hearing about this.

He looks down at his shoes because Jason’s face is blinding. “It’s a ways from New York, too.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Sorry.” He sounds apologetic.

_Is ‘yeah’ all you can say?_

But Nico puts this out of his mind, smiling at the blurry iris message. “Well, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Jason’s eyes cloud sadly. “Um, this will be the last time I iris message anyone. I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention to myself.”

Nico’s eyes sting. His throat is glued shut. “Got it. Makes sense.”

“But I’ll write you,” Jason amends quickly. “I think… if I didn’t talk to you at all, I’d go insane.”

That helps some, sending a flush spreading up Nico’s neck. “Me too.” It’s better than nothing. It’s all Nico has left to cling to. His cabin feels so big and empty. Hazel and Reyna are gone at camp, both busy with their respective responsibilities. Percy and Annabeth have left, too. All he has left is Will.

Just Will.

All his other outlets withering away. All his friendships whittled to wood chips. A garden with soil that’s far too hard, not malleable enough for a healer’s hands to fix. For anyone to fix. It’s just the way it is, no matter how hard he tries.

Jason would talk to the flowers, gentle, patient, help them bloom. Not shovel too much onto his new friend at once, but listen, listen and smile with lips too sweet for what he needs.

Nico thinks he needs Jason now more than ever.

But that’s selfish. Nico isn’t allowed to be selfish. Isn’t allowed to want more. Not now, not ever.

“Nico? You still there?” Jason’s eyes are so big and blue, watery like the ocean.

“I’m fine. Just spaced out. Sorry.”

Jason purses his lips. “I told everyone else not to iris message me, and I won’t send any out. But Nico, if you need me… if you just need to see my face or hear my voice, for any reason, _please_ call me. Don’t tell the others--” _Don’t tell Will_.

“They’d just get jealous,” Nico supplies. “I got it.” He feels special. It’s a good feeling.

Jason leans in close, peering at him. “Nico.” He’s starting to smile and that makes Nico want to smile, too. His eyes are lidded and soft, glancing delicately at his friend.

His heart thuds. “Yes?”

“Wake up.” Reyna’s voice startles him back to the present with a small gasp.

“Wh--what.” She’s holding his hands. His fingertips are fading. He’s just emerged from shadow, from Elysium. His flesh buzzes numbly. He hasn’t felt this in a long time; the fading, the uncertainty. He hasn’t shadow travelled because Will insisted, and that much time away from his own powers, suppressing himself, has left him drained. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“What did you find out?” She entreats him to the grass, setting a bag of fast food in front of him. He gratefully gulps it down. At least he’s regained his appetite in the last year. Reyna notices his hungry fever and almost smiles. She waits for him to lick the grease from his fingers before he finally speaks.

“He’s not there.” Reyna’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised. “I know--weird. Maybe he’s stuck waiting somewhere, but I doubt it. Not Jason. They wouldn’t let him wait.”

“Nico…” Her voice is gentle, bracing him for something hushed and brass. “Why would the gods care about letting him wait? I mean, even his father…”

“I know, but, _my_ father knows.” He digs the soggy remnants of a hamburger bun out of his teeth. “My father knows how important he is to me.” His pulse jitters. Reyna pats his back awkwardly. “Besides, he’s a hero. Heroes aren’t kept waiting.”

“Did you find out anything else?”

He shakes his head. “No. I ran into an old friend, though.” He hesitates on the word friend, not sure what to call Luke. Reyna notices his stilted syntax but says nothing.

“So, what now?” she asks helplessly.

“We need his body.” Nico winces. He understands the fear that comes with death, but never so potently until now. Its finality, solidity, carved in dark oak or smooth cherry or kingly marble or fragile grass underfoot. “We’ll find answers there, first. He can’t pass without proper burial rites, anyway. And I don’t trust Apollo to get him what he needs when he got him killed in the first place.”

His hands are fading again. Reyna takes them in her own once more, blowing softly over them, warming the cold joints. Nico leans into her embrace and shivers. “Okay.” She’s as frightened as he is to have to look on Jason’s corpse. And Nico isn’t sure if he’ll be able to control himself when he lays eyes on Apollo. Perhaps to prolong this, or perhaps to extend their current suffering, he expects it when Reyna says, “We need to find Thalia.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “We do.” Even if she won’t come with, they need to offer. They need to tell her. If she doesn’t already know.

They criss cross America looking for the hunters of Artemis. Their iris messages don’t reach her. Nico extends offers to dozens of spirits that all give conflicting reports to their whereabouts. He’s getting tired, shadow travelling more than he has in years. But it’s also invigorating. He’s getting used to himself again, comfortable with the darkness he denied himself for so long. He supposes he only did it for Will’s benefit rather than his own. That’s clear to him now.

But that sting is nothing compared to the wound Jason’s left him with.

He’s in a midwest lake town staring at the river passing by and thinking of Luke when Reyna begins to crack. “We used to sit on the edge of the tiber,” she recalls softly, her bare feet dipping in the water. She’s slipping. “Our only time for peace.”

Nico holds one of her hands. She presses the other firmly to her mouth to silence her shaking sobs. He doesn’t look at her. She doesn’t need that, doesn’t want the attention. She weeps in silence for seven minutes, dries her eyes, and lets go of Nico’s hand as though the moment never happened.

They shack up in a shuttered motel, exchanging an amused glance when the innkeeper tries to insinuate something between them. There’s slanted bedframe with a mattress rockier than a mountain. They both want to take the floor, decide they may as well get what little they paid for out of their stay, and settle back to back on the bed.

“I’m going to see if I can reach Thalia in my sleep,” Nico says. “That’s the only other way I can think to get a hold of her directly.”

“Wish you would have tried that four days ago.”

He elbows her side. “Shut up.”

She returns the favor. “Get to work. I’ll knock you out if necessary.”

Nico obeys her command. He goes through his regular cycle of darkness. He sees the inside of a jar and kicks his way out. He sees fire and puts it out with his jacket. He doesn’t let green eyes or otherwise taunt him. He reaches out for Thalia, shadows spilling from his fingertips and shooting out into the realm of dreams like spider silk.

It’s in the darkness that he finds Will, first.

“Why are you here?” he groans, head in his hands. Apparently he can’t escape Nico, whether he’s in the waking world or not.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Nico wets his chapped lips. “Thalia hasn’t been to camp, has she?”

Will shakes his head. “You should really come home.”

His nose wrinkles. “That place hasn’t felt like home in a long time, Will.”

“Really?” He wipes his sweaty hands on his scrubs. He’s all doctored up and Nico almost expects him to lay him down on an operating table, pry him open with a scalpel, try and discern his feelings and secrets the best way he knows how. “Then why did you stay?”

“You wanted me to.” He swallows. “Jason wanted it, too. Bianca wanted it. And I thought I should try.”

“Were you ever happy there?”

“Yes. Sometimes. But sometimes I wasn’t.” He rubs his eyes tiredly. “I don’t have the energy for this right now. I have to find Thalia.”

Will squares his jaw. His face hardens. “Fine. Leave, then. Keep running. Don’t expect me to waiting with open arms when you come back.”

“I wouldn’t want you to anyway,” Nico replies. There’s no spite in his voice, only a factual emptiness that makes Will’s face fall. He waves his hand and Will disappates into the dark air. It’s sad that he’s abandoned the only person who could ever want him, and part of him thinks he’ll come running back to Will anyway. But he can’t afford to think like that now.

This isn’t about him. This is about Jason, this is about doing right by him. Because Jason’s done right by everyone and almost everyone has neglected to return the favor.

He reaches further into the darkness. He thinks of Bianca. He thinks of the hunters, the snowy hill he first met Percy. His quest to the underground with Thalia and Percy. Her coming to his and Reyna’s rescue during their time with the Athena Parthenos.

Nico grabs hold of her consciousness and _pulls_ , stretching miles and eons of darkness in his hands to pull Thalia Grace’s mind before him. She stands there the same as she’s ever looked. He’s almost her age now. Jason was just barely hers. Gods, thinking of him in past tense hurts.

Hard blue eyes meet his. “Where are you?” Thalia demands.

“Where are _you_? We’ve been searching for you--”

“I know. I had some things to sort out.” He peers at her faded face, her dulled eyes. There’s gray sprouting in her hair, interspersed between her dark roots. “Where are you?”

“Stillwater, Minnesota. Reyna’s with me--”

“I’ll be there tomorrow.” She turns to go.

“Thalia, wait--”

“Whatever you have to say can wait until tomorrow.” Thalia doesn’t turn around. He sees her shoulders stiffening under her leather jacket. “You look like hell. Get some actual sleep, none of this dream nonsense.”

He reaches for her arm and she brushes him off. She looks over her shoulder to flick him in the forehead, once, and then she’s gone.

The dark is weighing in on him, now. He turns to go, too, and stops short. His jaw falls slack open.

Jason sits there in his school uniform, dashing and lost, glancing around the darkness. This has to be an illusion. Or… or perhaps Jason’s consciousness reaching out to him. He lays eyes on Nico and grins, relieved. There’s a hole in the center of his shirt--Nico rubs his own chest self consciously, remembering the pain that struck him a week ago. It’s only been over a week but he’s felt like decades have passed in Jason’s absence.

The former praetor smiles sadly and walks over. “Did you get my postcard?”

“Which one?”

“You had one more coming. I wrote it before I left.” Jason bites his lip, nursing his scar with his teeth. “Keep an eye out for it.”

“Jason, do you know where you are?” Nico asks. “Please, if you can focus--I can try and help you.”

He shrugs sadly, circles dragging his eyes down. “I’m tired, Nico.” He rubs his chest as though it aches and Nico reaches for that hand. Jason catches it and sighs. Nico can feel his cold skin under the hole in the shirt, but there’s a heart beating under his shaking hand, too, so Jason is _alive_ and this _proves_ it. “I don’t feel good.”

But the edges of his hair are fading and Nico is waking up, the world washing to gray, a horrible lightening with sunrise. “Don’t leave, Jason. Please. Just hold on a bit longer. I’m going to find you. I’m going to save you. I’m going--”

“I’m going,” Jason repeats softly. His entire body is turning to dust in Nico’s hands. _I’m gone_.

Nico makes a desperate last grab for Jason. He wakes up clinging to Reyna, tears from his dream burning his face. She’s a good sport, awkwardly craning back around and patting his head until he can breathe again. “You good?” she inquires.

“Yeah.” He can taste vomit in the back of his throat and swallows it back down.

He guzzles down a bottle of water and she ties his sweaty hair back. “If you don’t wash this soon, I’m going to cut it,” she threatens. He throws the empty bottle over his shoulder at her. She whacks him.

They haphazardly freshen up and venture out of their room, heading to the docks to wait for Thalia’s arrival. Reyna’s the lookout. Nico buries his face in _The Illustrated Man_ until a revving motorcycle catches his attention, Jason’s sister all but leaping from the pages of his book.  She parks her bike and strides over. Her hair is streaked gray, jet black dulling brassy. Her face is hard, fists clenched, completely on guard. Nico is going to explain his plan, but he realizes he doesn't really have a plan beyond  _Get Jason back even if it kills me_. He tells Thalia as much and catches Reyna nodding out of the corner of his eye. "I don't need you to give me a plan," she says. "Whatever we have to do, I'm in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little headcanon that always makes it into my jasico works somehow: nico really likes ray bradbury. he published stuff around the same time frame nico grew up so! i like to think their paths crossed.


	7. sunset boulevard

Thalia blows a long stream of smoke from her nose, eyes shut painfully tight.

Reyna coughs, waving her hand. “Can’t you put that out?”

“No,” Thalia replies petulantly. But a second later, she’s pressed it into her makeshift ashtray, a crumpled sheet of tinfoil. 

“Where did you even get those? You’re not old enough to smoke.”

“Most people don’t care how old you are when you have a bow and arrow.”

“Your mother smoked?” Reyna wonders. She remembers her father used to bite his nails. Lupa beat that out of her, thankfully, but sometimes she’ll still nervously twist the rings on her fingers, just like Nico does when he feels out of place. 

“Smoked, drank. Whatever she could get her hands on.” Thalia sniffles, rubbing her nose. “Sometimes if I get really down on myself I try it again, pretending I won’t hate it like the last time I tried. You think I’d know better by now.”

Reyna gets it. She shrugs and falls on the bed beside Thalia, folding her hands over her stomach. There were long weeks when she hardly had time to breathe and took out all her tension on her cuticles, biting them to hell. Only Jason’s hand catching her wrist reminded her he was there, supporting her, ready to catch her should she fall.

She thinks of him. Falling, falling. The sickening crack of his spine when the ocean finally  _ stops _ his momentum. Reyna has to stop thinking. She shuts her eyes and just breathes, twiddling with the silver band on her finger.

“What’s that?” Thalia pokes her hand, tracing the inscribed jewelry. 

“A token of my praetorship,” she says. Swallows, thinking of Jason’s.

Thalia stills, too, afraid to ask: “And… did he--?”

“Yes.” A pause. “He gave it to Frank after the Giant War. They pass on, from praetor to praetor. They always seem to survive, no matter the cost, no matter the change.” Her eyes flicker to meet Thalia’s electric blue eyes. Her gaze is fixed on Reyna equally, mournful, though something else resides beneath. A kinship, a connection with Reyna. She remembers the same glance during the war, seeing those eyes distinctly from her rescuer, even as the world around her blurred.

Thalia shifts so she’s laying on her side, Reyna still resting on her back. She rests her head on her hand, scratching at the emerging gray streaks. Thalia catches her looking and laughs, soft. “I’ve been granted a suspension from the hunters,” she says.

“Suspension?”

“Permanent.” Thalia shrugs as best she can, tugging at a stray thread in the blanket beneath them. “Not undeserved, I suppose.” She pulls a few gray locks down from their stiff up position, scrutinizing them. “Can’t tell if this is accelerated aging or if it’s just stress. My mom went gray early. She always had to dye it. I remember bleach--bleach and smoke. Gods, it was awful. Always took Jason outside so he didn’t breathe all that muck in.” Her voice grows soft, weighted with melancholy and underlying anger, the way it always gets when she brings up her mother. “Surprised he didn’t go gray from being praetor.”

Reyna chuckles. “There were weeks  _ I  _ was afraid of going gray. I don’t know how he did it.” She thinks of the shrines, his role as the Pontifex Maximus. She hasn’t smiled thinking of him even once this week. Tears have clouded her memory. 

“I better take care of this,” Thalia finally says. “When’s Nico coming back?”

“A few hours. He’s following up on some leads before we head out.”

“That gives us some time. You ever dyed hair?” Thalia messes up her boyish cut and it does something weird to Reyna’s heart. She doesn’t think about it.

“No. Have you?”

Thalia shakes her head and grins. 

They walk to a gas station and get what Thalia remembers her mother using when she was young, as well as some snacks. They hole up in the bathroom of their motel room, Reyna carefully applying bleach to her scalp. It tingles, even through her rubber gloves. Some black and white movie plays in the other room, and Thalia occasionally chimes in by quoting it  _ word for word _ , making faces in the mirror at herself, and then frowning at her lap after.

“My mom watched a lot of old movies,” she says in way of explanation. “For  _ inspiration _ , or whatever. I was raised on classics. Most importantly, classic rock.”

Reyna nods thoughtfully as she strokes another section of Thalia’s gray streaked roots. Watches her shoulders shiver. “I’m fairly certain Nico has the same shirt as you,” she says, motioning to Thalia’s band tee. 

She grins. “Of course. Should’ve pegged a kid that nerdy for it. He’s an old soul, after all.” Snickers to herself at her own joke. Then she sobers, some other thought catching her attention.

“Yes, he is,” Reyna agrees. “He and Jason got along quite well.”

“Really.” 

“Mhm. They were close.” Reyna doesn’t want to say too much, but it helps, framing Jason next to Nico. It’s a little easier to talk about him with her other friend in mind, too. “He was the first to trust Nico. Helped him open up. We got to be friends after that.”

“Huh. My brother, son of Jupiter, and the Hades kid.” They both think that pairing has a nice ring to it, if an odd one. “Sounds like something Jay would do. No offense to Nico--but Jason’s someone who looks out for other people. Especially the ones who need help really bad.”

She nods, Nico on her mind. “He did.” Jason creeps in. “He does.”

They sit and wait for a while, exchanging stories over snacks. The movie plays muted somewhere behind them. Thalia washes her hair in the sink. Reyna remains transfixed by the dark water rushing from her head. When she’s done, Reyna gently dries it. Thalia keeps away from the mirror as long as she can, hands fisted tight in her lap.

When all is said and done, it looks good. It hurts to look at, a shade of blonde that’s almost blinding, but it’s not a bad look. Thalia grips the mirror tight in her hands. She runs a hand through her hair several times, eyes darting across her reflection. She begins to shake.

“Gods,” she chokes. “I look just like--like--” 

Reyna doesn’t know who Thalia is thinking of. Too many names come to mind. The mirror shatters in the sink and Thalia grips her scalp tightly, tearing at the color they worked so hard to find. Reyna grips her arms, bringing her back to shore. She turns the TV off so only Thalia’s ragged breathing is heard.

They settle on the bed again, Thalia laying on her stomach, head buried in the sheets. Reyna lays on her side, now, watching her. They’ve both lost Jason twice, now--Thalia when she was much, much younger. It’s even harder the second time. 

She thinks of Nico on their quest across Europe, palm fisted against his chest, head thrown back, eyes nothing but white as he panted  _ Jason _ in a fevered state. He felt it. Reyna doesn’t think that level of pain could manifest within her. But in Jason’s sister… it’s likely. Her heart hurts for Thalia. For Nico. For herself. But most of all, for the boy she grew up with, the boy who held the sky at his fingertips, the boy who gave and gave and was  _ taken _ long after there was nothing left surrender to anyone’s good graces.

Reyna holds Thalia’s hand tight in her own. They stay there, locked together for hours until Nico’s return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure how many chapters long this will be. it's pretty free form. don't see it going over 20 for sure, but maybe somewhere between 12-15. we shall see. :0


	8. knocking (it over)

Will sits cross legged on the bed in Nico’s cabin, turning the package left there over and over, hoping that the next time he flips it will finally reveal all the answers he’s been missing. It’s a small envelope, and attached is a postcard. He doesn’t read it. He knows it’s from Jason.

He remembers faintly when his father first arrived at Camp Half-Blood with Thalia, Percy and Nico. Back then, he didn’t know Nico. Didn’t know any of them, didn’t care. He only remembers the shining face of his father, bordering on too bright, too sunny.

Maybe that’s how Nico sees him. Too much.

Yet Will still feels like he’s not enough.

He’s the camp’s best medic, but there are just some things even he can’t heal. He supposes it’s true of all; there has to be _something_ out there Leo can’t fix, some monster that Percy can’t overcome. Some heroic feat of Jason’s that is ultimately useless.

“He said he’d stay,” Nico said, eons ago. They sat by the lake, Nico’s knees clutched to his chest, head resting on top of them.

Will wanted to touch him, wanted to soothe him, but he thought better of it. Nico was distressed and wouldn’t appreciate it. Nico was not a touch person. Will _very much_ was. It’s how he measured, gauged affections. Nico did the same with words instead. They miss each other this way.

“He’s the one that _wanted_ me to stay,” Nico looked despondent over the glimmering water.

Maybe Nico thought there was no reason to stay if the one person who wanted him to stay left. Will swallowed his annoyance with that notion and insisted, “ _I_ want you to stay.”

“I know.” It didn’t seem to cheer him up any.

Will crossed his arms over his chest. Not enough, he reminded himself. Maybe if he was taller, if his hair wasn’t so curly, if his eyes were softer, sky blue--

Stop. He couldn’t go down that road.

“If he asked you to go, would you have gone with him?” Will asked honestly, afraid of the answer.

Jason lived up to his namesake as the son of Jupiter. Whenever he was brought up between Nico and Will, he was a livewire, and it crackled harshly between them, igniting resentment and jealousy.

“I don’t know,” Nico shrugged. “I don’t think I’d want to go on a romantic road trip with a straight guy and his girlfriend.”

“You don’t know for sure that Jason’s straight,” Will pointed out.

“Well, I don’t see why that matt--” Nico stopped abruptly and looked at Will. “Are you _jealous_?” Will shrugged, toeing the muddy lip of the ground wading into the lake. “Will, there’s not… nothing would… Jason couldn’t like me like that.”

“But you could?” Will raised an eyebrow.

Nico’s mouth dropped. “That… that’s not the point. We’re dating. I like you.” For emphasis, he grabbed Will’s hand. The gesture felt empty. Hollow.

“Whenever you bring up Jason, or whenever he’s around, you’re all smiles. He seems to be the only thing that made you happy when I was around, and now that he’s gone, you’re miserable.” Will ran a hand through his unruly blond curls. “Excuse me for reading into things too much.”

Nico’s face softened. “I… Will. I promise, I don’t like him like that. We’d never… He and Piper are practically star-crossed lovers.” Will didn’t miss the way his lips curled down in distaste at that notion.

“Mhm,” Will nodded. “Whatever you say, Nico.”

Nico anxiously clawed at the holes in his jeans. “Can’t you just trust me on this?”

Will’s jaw clenched, unclenched. He shook his head. “There’s just… there’s something between you guys that we don’t have. I thought that, if I’m your boyfriend, I could be your best friend, too. But Jason knows so much more about you than I do.”

“I’ve known him longer.”

“That’s not the point. You’ve told him more. You’re more comfortable around him.”

Nico squirmed. “We didn’t… become friends under great circumstances, Will. I was… in pieces,” His voice strained. “Jason was there to help me put myself back together.”

Will laughed heartlessly and fell back on the grass. His eyes stung. “Can’t you tell me this stuff, too? So I can help you?”

“Will… there’s just some stuff I don’t want to talk about.”

“You’re always pushing me away. You _refuse_ to let me care for you.”

“Will, no.”

“Nico, _yes_.”

“Stop it!” Nico snapped. “I just _can’t_ talk about it! Not with you, not with _anyone_! All my secrets, every part of me has been _ripped open_ for other people. I’m tired of it. I didn't willingly tell Jason... I want some things to myself, for once. Okay?”

“I didn’t pry that out of you,” Will muttered. “I just want to help.”

“I know.” Nico sighed, rubbed his chest where his heart was. “But you just… can’t heal everything, Will.”

“I can try!”

Nico scowled, but he looked more sad than anything. “This isn’t a bruise, Will. It’s… it’s permanent. It’s part of me. All… this.” He buried his head in his hands.

Will sat back up and crawled toward Nico, taking his hands. “Let me. Please, Nico…”

Nico shrank into himself. “Okay,” he said unconvincingly. He barely flinched when Will kissed his forehead, so the son of Apollo called it progress.

Will’s never going to have the same nuance that Jason and Nico have, and he can accept that. Sort of. It just sucks that he doesn’t know what he has with Nico anymore. Especially not since he left camp. There’s been no word, other than that of Jason’s passing.

Annabeth and Percy returned to camp a few days ago, eyes hollow, hands shaking. Will wonders where they’re going to bury him. If he belongs in New Rome or his new home, at Camp Half-Blood. Maybe under Thalia’s tree. Maybe some distant plot in Pasadena, giving him distance from the life he ran from.

Jason ran away like everyone, including Will, always Nico would.

Maybe because of him. _Them_. The distance between Jason and Piper, and the softness he shared with Will’s boyfriend…

He tries to cough away the sour sting on his tongue, but it’s impossible. He forgets about it when he hears a knock at the door.

“Hello?” he asks, frozen on the bed. Another few knocks. “Nico?” He scrambles off the bed and opens the door, ready to throw his arms around him, chide him for leaving--

And it’s not Nico.

Will doesn’t recognize the young man standing in front of the door. His skin is deeply tanned and his hair is dark and curly. He’s quite handsome. Dressed for summer, too, bermuda shorts and a red tank top. His sandals have little wings on them. But something about him makes Will’s insides churn, scream. He’s uncomfortable, wary.

“You aren’t Hermes,” he says cautiously.

“That’s correct, son of Apollo!” The man taps Will’s nose. He doesn’t like the way this man says his father’s name. Condescending, patronizing, thinly veiled hatred. “Very astute. I am not here in my Greek form at all. Otherwise… well, it would not be so pretty. I’m just here to run an errand, return a favor.”

He’s a god, obviously, with the soft glow surrounding him. Will looks around, but the camp seems strangely absent of activity. He doesn’t want to refuse the god, doesn’t even know what he wants, but he’s reasonably cautious.

“What favor?” he asks, stepping out of Nico’s cabin and closing the door behind him.

“Just keeping tabs on a boy I met a long time ago,” he hums. “How would you like to make up for your father’s mistakes, William?”

He holds out his hand. A summer breeze lilts through the air. Will swallows. Resents the notion that his dad is responsible for Jason’s death. That _he’s_ responsible for telling him where Jason was. “I’m not my dad,” he says. “If you’re looking for him--”

“I don’t care for Apollo,” the god says flatly. “The question is how much you care for your… what was that phrase… _significant annoyance_?” He chuckles, shakes his head, bemusedly.

Will flushes. “Close enough.”

“I can take you to him. But it’s up to you.”

Will stares at his still outstretched hand. Clutches the package in his hand. “I’m going to regret this.” He takes the man’s hand. The west wind ruffles his hair and he feels his bones stretch, shrink, and he dissolves into air, letting the empty current that once belonged to Jason whisk him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think will's character has a lot of potential, specifically in a character arc where he learns the difference between mental vs physical health, and how those both heal differently. why that strains his relationship with nico. im trying to understand what little we know of his character and write him w that aspect in mind. maybe rick'll give him a chance and let him and nico exist outside the context of their relationship. who knows, he's full of surprises (lots of bad ones. but. some good ones too. sometimes)!
> 
> you will receive a crisp $2 bill if you can guess who the [obvious] mystery man was


End file.
